


The Ice Is Getting Thinner

by gongpagong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Domestic, Emotional Hurt, Husbands AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gongpagong/pseuds/gongpagong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>A marriage half-drowned in<br/>alcohol, perpetually<br/>swimming in stupor.</p>
  <p>A love that may have faded by<br/>tainted, and<br/>undeserved perceptions of<br/>one's self.</p>
  <p>And a love that never<br/>knew how<br/>to quit.<br/></p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	The Ice Is Getting Thinner

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is [cross-posted ](http://theomegalomaniac.tumblr.com/post/57068475557/the-ice-is-getting-thinner)on [my Tumblr](http://theomegalomaniac.tumblr.com).
> 
> [Prompt](http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/41553598435/imagine-your-otp-have-become-distant-over-the) from [imagineyourotp](imagineyourotp.tumblr.com): _Imagine your OTP have become distant over the years they’ve been together. They find a photo album from a long time ago and as they look through the pictures, they begin laughing while recalling silly moments during their dates. Then, Person A’s smile fades as they ask “What happened to us?”_
> 
> Title inspired by Death Cab For Cutie's song of the same title.

10 years, 11 months, 5 days, and a few ounces of patience left for his husband. Castiel pretends to focus on his domestic chores as he listens intently at Dean’s retching in their shared bathroom. He loves his husband; loves him more than anything he has ever known, but a person can only handle so much responsibility at once.

Yes, he knows it’s kind of part of the job description as Dean’s husband that he look after him when he’s sick, but right now he’s just tired. He’s had enough of talking Dean out of his alcoholic ways. Had enough of waking up in ungodly hours to find his husband sprawled across the living room floor as he drank himself to stupor night after night. He doesn’t even want to think about the nights he had to carry Dean to their shared bed with a faint smell of a ladies perfume mixed with the stench of alcohol. Some nights he’d sit alone in their bed and think of giving up. He’d sit and wait for his husband to come home and tell him he wants to end this, all of it. But he never could. He loves Dean way too much to ever give this up. So he’ll lie awake at 3 A.M. very much aware of the cold emptiness on the other side of the bed. He’ll decide he’d wait for his husband to come home, to clean him up and get him ready for bed. He’ll tuck him under their cover and take in what little warmth he could get from his husband’s unconscious form.

Castiel struggles to keep strong and not let this marriage fall apart; even after it has become apparent that it’s gradually slipping from his fingers.

“CASTIEL!” His husband bellows, and he steels himself for another outburst. He remembers the times when Dean would say his name like a prayer; he tries to recall how sweet it sounded when his husband used to whisper and scream his name in various states of undress. Now, he screams to reprimand and degrade. All affections lost to the buzzing of alcohol that’s coursing through his veins.

“What now, Dean?” He asks, dejected as he takes a long suffering sigh in front of the man he loves; the man who once loved him back, but now he isn’t sure anymore. He takes in the mess in the living room. There were magazines and phonebooks strewn all over the living room floor, and he looks at his husband, his frown demanding for an explanation.

“ _GODDAMNIT_  CASTIEL, WHERE IS MY LATEST ISSUE OF BUSTY ASIAN BEAUTIES?!”

“ _Dean_ ,” he warns, his voice level, trying so damn hard to keep calm and collected in front of the man who submitted unto self-pity; His husband who holds on to self-deprecation like a lifeline when it's anything other than _that_.

Castiel starts to pick up the reading materials within his radius. He eyes Dean closely, but the other man was stubborn enough not to follow his example; he grabs another batch from the neat pile of materials, and throws it on the floor. Castiel stops in his tracks as something landed just a few inches shy from his head.

It was a photo album.

Castiel slowly sat, cross-legged, as he begins to flip through the pages.

Dean is frozen from where he was standing as he watches Cas’ tears break away from his eyes from the memories of their photographs together and with their friends.

Dean slowly approaches Cas and positions himself behind him to peer over his shoulders. They tried to relive their experiences from the photos with the occasional, “Oh I remember that time!” as they share embarrassing anecdotes, which are fairly better than what they have now.

He’d missed the days when Dean would drag him unto impromptu road trips (that they’d sometimes share with Sam and/or Jo.) He revels in the memories of their youth and they laughed at their past selves for what seemed like hours, and it’s the best Cas has felt in over 3 years.

They were laughing and crying until they reached the last page where a photo of them is attached. Castiel abruptly stopped laughing from the photo of Bobby halfway-through-a-sneeze. He swallowed the thick lump on his throat as he lightly caressed the last photo in the album, his eyes brimming with tears.

It was a photo of them on their wedding day. Forehead to forehead, eye to eye, each sporting a loving smile for the other. With Castiel’s arms slung at his husband’s neck, and Dean’s arms wrapped around his waist.

Castiel takes in the sweet moment caught in this photograph. He remembers the way Dean looked and smiled at him, with a crinkle in his eyes, and fondness written all over their faces. They were ridiculously, undoubtedly head over heels in love with each other. It was almost gross to think about if Castiel wasn’t craving for this for a while now.

Dean watches him study the photograph; he notices the tears landing on its plastic covers. His heart clenching at the sight of Castiel’s longing, with the way he looks at this reminder of what they used to be, the way he’s softly caressing the photo as if willing the memory to come back to life-- to him, just this once, as a reminder of how much their marriage is worth to him, to Dean. For a second Dean thought of joking to ask Castiel for a dance, but he was interrupted by Castiel’s broken voice when he looked at him with that endearing head tilt and asked, “What happened to us?”

Then it hit him.

It was only then when it all came to Dean in a rush of memories and emotions, too many to pinpoint. But he can’t ignore how his heart clenched and his gut wrenched at the scene that had unfolded. It was only then when he’d noticed how broken his husband had become as the days have progressed into years of him drowning himself in alcohol. He’d noticed the emptiness in his eyes where there once were overflowing streams of adoration and affection. He saw the hurt in Castiel’s face and he thought of how his husband doesn’t deserve to feel pain. And it was then that he’d realized that this is entirely his fault.

  
_We’re not the same, dear, as we used to be._   
_The seasons have changed and so have we._   
_There was little we could say, and even less we could do_   
_To stop the ice from getting thinner under me and you._   



End file.
